


Alone

by lesbianneptune



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Angstober 2015, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianneptune/pseuds/lesbianneptune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without Neptune, there's just too much empty space. Angsty drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

Uranus is more than used to the bitter chill of the cold wind; it is the mark of a homecoming, one of the staple aspects of her planet’s climate. The memories of the sharp lashes of rain upon her skin as she runs bring nought but an ironic warmth to her mind, the knowledge of her own ability to outpace anything as long as she tries hard enough, each blast of air moving her further and further towards flight, towards the sky, towards a goal with no specific name.

It is not, then, the winds themselves that cause the coldness in Uranus’ heart as she lies alone for the ninety-fifth night in a row (she has counted, and she will continue to keep count for the next three hundred and fifty-eight nights, after which the counter will reset yet again). On the contrary, her slim form is covered with nothing more than a thin cotton sheet, a wholly unnecessary addition to her sleeping habits but one that Neptune insists on in any case.

(Uranus will do anything Neptune says, regardless of logic, though she will never speak it so.)

If she holds the bedsheet close, sometimes, she can still catch Neptune’s scent, though she is not sure if she is merely imagining it - the still memory leaking into her senses, honey-like, sticking to every surface. Permanent.

She reaches out to the other side of the bed, trying to grasp the edge. Her arms are long, but not quite long enough. Her figures curl up in frustration and she grits her teeth.

There’s just so much space. In the bed, in the palace, on the planet. In her heart.

It is not the bitter chill of the wind that causes the coldness.

It’s her.


End file.
